


A Darling is Hooked

by nebulaethereal



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, peter - Fandom
Genre: Adult Content, Adventure, Drinking, Drugs, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Neverland, Pirates, Psychotropic Drugs, Rescue, Romance, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulaethereal/pseuds/nebulaethereal
Summary: Ages after Wendy visits Neverland, her great-great-great-great-great-grandniece is taken. She brings with her drugs, booze, debachary of a like that even Hook hasn't seen in a long time.Neverland, meet Julie. She may have grown up, but she's still no good at adulting. Neverland has met its match.





	A Darling is Hooked

“Darling, do you mind topping me off?” The older woman asked, handing her empty bourbon glass to her niece.

“Of course, Janine. Would anybody else like anything?” Julie asked the room full of women playing Spades. She was waved off as they resumed their conversation.

“Mhmm…” She sneered a bit, walking down the hallway to the kitchen where the bar was. Having had quite enough of the rather rude and noisy festivities of her aunt and friends, she decided that she deserved a tip for her services throughout the night.

Checking her watch, she noted that it was nearly ten. She crouched down to observe the dusty, forgotten bottles and decanters of spirits and liquors. She chose one that would fit neatly in her duster pocket, and stood back up.

A few moments later she returned to her aunt’s side and placed the refilled glass next to her playing cards. Before her aunt could ask something else of her (probably for crackers or cheese), she kissed the older woman on the cheek.

“I’m headed to bed ladies, it’s been lovely.” She smiled sweetly to them all, palming the bottle in her pocket and heading up to her room.

Along the wall over the stairs, there were family photos. Photos of her aunt, herself, her dead parents, their long-dead grandparents, and onward. They spanned the entire space of the wall like a blocky family tree.

This house had been in their family for generations, and when her aunt had inherited it, they were both rather elated to have an excuse to move to London. Sure, it wouldn’t exactly mend the wobbly relationship, but the change of pace certainly made life more novel.

Up the stairs and past numerous empty rooms, she made it to her own. There were still photos of the children who once inhabited this, their nursery. It had since been converted into a second master bedroom, with rose-painted walls and rich mahogany floors.

She took out the full bottle of absinthe and set it on her bedside table, scooting off her socks before climbing onto her bed.

“Let’s see…” she cracked open her laptop, starting to browse Etsy for more furnishings for her rather barren room.

Looking around, she wondered what would go well with a creaky bureau, a king-size bed with full-curtain canopy, and the huge day-bed window with large French doors.

She decided to look for some of those little stars that stick to the wall with tack.

In the mean-time, she began to roll up a bit of hash into a little joint, tucking it behind her ear for later.

“These can’t be that expensive, jeeze…” She muttered to nobody in particular.

There was a creak nearby, and she froze, looking toward the empty corner of the room. The origin of the sound.

Squinting, she allowed herself to shrug it off, and turned back to her computer.

Uncorking the absinthe, she took a bit in her mouth, inspecting the flavor, and finally approving. She began to periodically sip on it as she shopped.

There was that creak again. She refused to look over again, and began to wonder if the rumors of his house being haunted were true. She snorted a little laugh to herself, though. She was 24 years old… she didn’t believe in such childish things as ghosts or hauntings.

Then the French doors swung open, and a shadowy figure stood there—no, floated there! Her neck betrayed her, as she slowly turned to see the figure of a ghostly boyish figure floating in her opened window.

Unsure of the best course of action for dealing with ghosts, she stayed perfectly still and silent.

Her breathing was even stilled.

“What are you doing here?” The ghost asked, hands on hips.

She said nothing, hoping he’d find someone else to talk to—as if she weren’t alone in this room with this apparition.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” The figure suddenly advanced, floating closer to her.

Her fight-or-flight kicked in and she threw a nearby lamp his way. He caught it. He bloody caught it. He was even worse than a ghost. He was a SOLID ghost!

For some reason, the implication frightened her to no end. She went to scream, but he was ontop of her, hand over her mouth.

That’s when she saw it was a boy, no older than 12, with a shock of unnaturally-red hair. He hovered over her, keeping her quiet. “Sh! I hate it when girls scream!”

She realized just how small he, in fact, was. Her eyes narrowed, and she realized she could take him, easy.

So she sat up, easily pushing him back with a shove. He floated back effortlessly, chuckling as if it were such fun.

“What are you?” She asked, staring at his feet, which were not touching the floor. She’d seen enough Supernatural to know this was unnatural. She wished she had some salt nearby.

“I’m a boy!” He announced with glee. Now it was she who didn’t want anyone hearing. She quickly shushed him, rolling over her bed to hop over and shut the door.

Even flying, she had a good foot on him. She crossed her arms over her house-coat and looked him over.

“Okay… a boy who can fly?” She speculated, moving to the bottle by her bed once more. Her fright ebbing, while her annoyance grew.

“Of course! And you can too! Just think happ—”

“Ah-fuck… sorry… spilled.” She grumbled, mopping up some booze from the bedside table.

“What were you saying, Boy?” She asked, righting herself with another swig.

“Um—Well, you can fly too! If you just think happy thoughts!” He smiled, suddenly flitting around the room with delight.

Tilting her head, she nodded. Not one to deny a new experience, she slipped the lid on her bottle, tucked it in her pocket, and clapped her hands together. “Well, let’s do this!”

She began to think about handsome men from her old neighborhood, and delicious food… She floated a smidge as he sprinkled pixie dust from above.

“Well, you’ll need happier thoughts than that!” He taunted, laughing at her annoyingly.

She peered up at him, scoffing. Then, with an idea, she held a finger up. “Hold that thought.” She ordered.

She grabbed her lighter, lit her joint, and took a few swigs. The thoughts came again, and she smiled, nodding. “Mmhmm… lovely thoughts indeed…” She floated again, and higher—and even higher still.

Knocking her noggin on the roof, she coughed out the smoke. The boy coughed in return.

“Ohhh, goodness. I didn’t realize how OLD you were…” He was suddenly close to her, peering into her face. “Well, I can’t take YOU” He insisted, turning to fly out of the window.

“Hey! Get back here!” She began to chase after him, puffing the joint now and then as she flew.

“Aw… man. No, just go back home, adults aren’t allowed in Neverland.” He insisted, stopping in front of her and pressing a hand to her forehead.

“I’m no adult… Not at heart anyway,” She rested a hand over her head, pleading with him through her eyes.

He squinted, quite skeptical, and sighed. Finally, he grabbed her hand and dragged her, reluctantly, straight on til morning.

\-------------


End file.
